


Hands

by Band_slut_michael



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death of a openly gay man, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Not Happy, Self-Harm, Suicide, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 08:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21012887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Band_slut_michael/pseuds/Band_slut_michael
Summary: It was 8:05 pm on Saturday, August 14th, 2019, when Stanley James Uris decided to take a bath.A fanfiction based on the song "Hands" by 'orkid'.





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not read if sensitive to topics including suicide or self harm. This is triggering content.

Richie left for tour on August 10th, 2019. That was thirty-five days ago. 

Stanley Uris had dropped his husband, Richie Tozier, off at the airport that morning. It was 7:38 when he kissed him goodbye. 

He then drove himself home in his sedan and got into the routine of being alone after so long. It was methodical, removing himself from the comforts he’d grown to know. Sleeping on the couch because the bed was too cold to bear alone. Listening to only his classical music playlists and nothing his husband would enjoy. Actually completing his puzzles in a neat and timely matter for once, unlike when Richie ‘helped’ him. It was cold, clinical, his movements. Ticks of the clock the only sound albeit slow steady breaths puffing from out his lips. 

At 6:47 pm the quietness was broken by the sound of Jabba the Hutt emitting from his phone. He knew that sound well enough. Richie’s ringtone. Putting down his puzzle piece and picking up the cellular he tapped the green answer button. He spoke the same line he always spoke when taking a call. “Stanley Uris speaking.” He spoke softly. 

“Hello Mr. Uris, this is officer Slater from the Chicago police department, I am calling you this afternoon because there’s been a problem with your husband Richie Tozier.” Richie said in a serious voice, playing up one of his well-known characters ‘Officer Slater’. 

“Oh, what’s the problem officer?” Stan asked, trying to go along with what ever story his husband was spinning. He found it amusing, even if he wouldn’t admit that. 

“We have your husband in custody, he was disturbing the peace,” Richie began to explain, “he was running around the streets with his massive schlong out, yelling things like “I love my husband” and “Mr. Uris owns this ass” …you are the said Mr. Uris he was disturbing the peace for.” Richie said, creating a vivid image in Stanley’s head. 

“Oh dear, that’s very unlike him.” Stanley said, feigning surprise. 

“He claimed he hasn’t been all there in the head this last month, using the excuse of love making with-draws.” Richie explained. 

Laughing, Stanley broke the illusion. “How has the road been treating you Rich?” Stanley questioned, slowly leaning into the couch cushions. The tension bleeding out of him from just the few minutes of conversation he’d had so far that evening. He was even smiling to himself. 

“Words cannot describe it; I am in shock with how smooth things are going. All my jokes are landing with the audience and I’ve yet to have a single heckler bother me while I’m doing my set.” Richie went on, describing the touring lifestyle. He went on for another 12 minuets and 56 seconds. 

“I am so proud of you; I cannot believe I landed such a talented and dedicated man.” Stanley said adoringly. 

Taken back by the sudden and abrupt laud, Richie let out a nervous chuckle, “Who are you and what did you do to my Stanley.” 

“Oh hush Rich I just- “, Stanley’s voice caught in his throat, “-really miss you is all.” Staring at the wall in front of him, Stanley willed himself to stay strong. It worked. 

“I miss you too, no lie it’s been hard to sleep with out you, doesn’t help this bus smells of hot wings.” Richie started, before remembering something. “Oh! That reminds me! John and Anne have invited us to go on vacation with them and Petunia.” 

Hearing this excited Stanley, but he didn’t want to get Richie’s (and admittedly his own as well) hopes up at the prospect. “Do you know where and when this vacation is taking place?” He asked, aiming for a casual tone. 

“Yes! Next summer, two weeks in Buenos Aires.” Richie said excitedly. 

“Oh, then the company will have to let me take time off, if it’s summer.” Stanley mused. “Go ahead and tell them we can join them.” 

“Fuck yeah! We are Buenos Aires bound!” Richie cheered into the phone. At this point they had been talking for 23 minuets and 4 seconds. 

They talked for another 39 minuets and 17 seconds, putting the clock at 7:49, 51 seconds away from 8 o’clock pm on the dot when another call interrupted them. 

“One second dove, I’m getting another call.” Stanley broke in. Looking down he was surprised, he never got calls this late from an unknown number. But there it was in front of his face, numbers splayed out in an unrecognizable and unsaved pattern. “Dove, why don’t you call me back after your show, I’m going to take this call, when should I expect a returning call?” Stanley asked. 

“Hmm, If I go my normal pace and they cheer at the end I should be back in my dressing room around 11 pm… so I’d say between 10:50 and 11:10, talk to you then Stanley, I love you.” Richie replied. 

“Ok dove I love you too, break a leg.” Stanley said before switching calls, now 8:02 pm. “Stanley Uris speaking.” He said into the phone for the second time that day. 

An indistinct voice floated to his ear. “Stanley? This is Mike.” The voice explained. 

“I am sorry who is this?” Stanley asked. 

“It’s Mike.” Mike spoke, each somehow too fast to catch but so slow it dragged on forever in Stanley’s mind. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Mike Hanlon from Derry.” 

The realization hit him as if he were a innocent fawn on the highway and Mike was a 18-wheeler. 

“Mike god, sorry yes, hi I don’t know why I didn’t uh um. How long’s it been?” Stanley mumbled out, each word more bitter tasting than the last. 

“Long time. 27 years.” 

With those four simple words, everything Stanley James Uris worked so hard to forget came rushing back. 

“It’s come back hasn’t it? That’s why you’re calling me.” Stanley asked before making his accusation. 

“It’s started again Stan; bad things are happening.” Mike explained. 

And in an instant, Stanley felt his blood go cold. Each individual thread of clothes on his body felt heavier than his downy winter comforter. The phone in his hand felt like it weighed a million tons despite weighing no more than a few grams. Each tick on the clock felt like a countdown to an inevitable doom that was hiding around the corner he could not see. The room was somehow too hot and too cold at the same time. Nothing else mattered at that point, but to see what Mike Hanlon needed at 8:04 pm on a Saturday. 

“Did you call the others? I mean w-what if they don’t- they don’t come?” Stanley stammered out, fear and anxiety gripping his entire body. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since he married Richie. 

“We made a promise, remember? How soon can you get here?” Mike asked. 

“W-well I would need to do a few things-“ Stanley started to say. 

‘Like call my husband’ he thought to himself. 

“Tomorrow, we don’t have much time, I’ll text you everything you need to know. See you soon Stan the man.” Mike finished. They had talked for 3 minuets and 27 seconds. 

It was 8:05 pm on Saturday, August 14th, 2019, when Stanley James Uris decided to take a bath. 

He knew he needed to write something for his husband. So, he did that. He wrote for 56 minuets and 8 seconds. 

He knew he needed to write something for his friends, who would be making the return to Derry. He wrote for another 18 minuets and 42 seconds. 

At 9:19 pm Stanley went into his bathroom. 

At 9:20 pm Stanley turned the water on, getting it hot. 

At 9:21 pm Stanley took his razor out from his above sink mirror cabinet, and slid the blade out from its housing. 

At 9:24 pm the tub was full. 

At 9:25 pm Stanley sunk down into the water. 

At 9:25 pm Stanley took the razor blade into his left hand, bringing the sharp silver metal to his right wrist. 

At 9:26 pm Stanley pushed down, and dragged from right to left. The blood leaving him at a moderate speed. 

At 9:27 pm Stanley repeated the action three more times, leaving four perpendicular gushing cuts on himself. 

At 9:30 pm he took his last breath, images of his wedding day dancing behind his eyelids. 

At 11 pm on the dot, Richie Tozier called his husband back like he promised. It went to voice mail. 

At 11:10 pm Richie tried again, and once more he got the voice mail box. 

At 11:30 pm Richie tried once more, yielding the same response. 

At 11:31 pm Richie called the Atlanta police department, asking for a wellness check on his husband. 

At 12:08 am Richie got a call from an unknown number. “Richie Tozier speaking.” Richie said. 

“This is officer Smith with the Atlanta police department; I am calling because there is a problem with your husband Stanley Uris.” The gruff voice explained. 

“What is the problem officer?” Richie questioned gently. 

“He’s committed suicide.” 

Richie went to his husband’s funeral on September 17th, 2019. 

He gave a speech. 

“What happens now, that I have been robbed of the rest of my life? Somehow, I wish I could hate him right now. I thought he would always be right here by my side. How could he leave me when he said he was mine? Just… let me pretend our vows still mean something.” Richie took a pause, and then a breath, “And he’s too dead to break this silence! You all probably thought I wouldn’t even bother but I care too much about him! Would you all forgive me if I kept my mouth shut for once?” 

Richie Tozier never spoke another word after that.

**Author's Note:**

> If you or someone you know is struggling please use the crisis text line at crisistextline.org or text CONNECT to 741741.


End file.
